


Pranks

by NovelistServant



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff and Humor, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistServant/pseuds/NovelistServant
Summary: Dipper and Mabel got their fun-loving personalities from someone, and that someone got his fun-loving personality from someone else.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Pranks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Oh, boyohboyohboyohboyohBOY! I love this little fic and I’m so happy to post it here for you guys! Of course, this is heavily referencing F.R.I.E.N.D.S., specifically S7E16 “The One with the Truth About London”, but I had this idea for a long time and am happy to finally throw it out into the world. I hope you guys like it! (and yes I gave in and jumped on the bandwagon on a certain headcanon)

Stanford drummed his six fingers on the arm of the old plaid couch impatiently. While he sat on the right side of the couch, his four-year-old nephew sat on the left side, his little legs just barely passing the edge of the seat and his face just as bored and impatient as the college graduate’s.

Sherman’s son, Alex, had been born in the Fall of Stanford and Stanley’s senior year of high school. While the baby seemed to cry every time Stanford held him, Stanford painfully reminded himself that his twin had always been good with kids and would have probably handled this situation much better. Shermie and his wife both worked, and while their son was in preschool it worked out so that a parent was home when Alex was home, but now that summer was here, the boy was often sent to day-long visits with his grandparents. Ma loved having her grandson over, dotting on him, giving him plenty of snacks and playing games or watching TV with him, but the Pines family was out of groceries and so rather than take the four-year-old with her, Ma left Alex with Stanford.  
  
Stanford didn’t have a boiling hatred for children and he loved his nephew greatly, but he was socially awkward with kids and had no idea how to interact with them. Stanford glanced down at the boy and found his eyes glossy as he daydreamed. Stanford sighed quietly to himself. Part of the job description of an uncle was to always entertain his nieces and nephews. He had a chance to be the fun yet responsible adult. Once again Stanford was painfully reminded that Stanley had been amazing with their nephew and could keep him entertained with a shoe string if needed. Stanford was tempted to think of what Stanley would do if he was here, but that was out of the question, so instead he asked himself what would he do with anyone who was exceedingly bored. He would talk to them.  
  
Stanford cleared his throat. “So, um, Alex, are you excited that school is over?”  
  
He shrugged, still looking dead ahead. “It’s been kinda boring.”  
  
Stanford couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, I suppose so.”  
  
“Yeah, in school I pwayed with the other kids, but now there’s no kids t’pway with.”  
  
Stanford’s first question was why not play with his siblings, but then he was reminded of the struggles young only-children had. “Ah, I see. And you don’t have any brothers or sisters to play with, huh?” Stanford asked, and Alex shook his head. “Well, that’s probably for the best. You know, your father was your age when… when I came along, and all he did was complain about it.”  
  
Alex smiled and turned in his seat to look at his uncle a little bit better. “Really, why?” He asked with a smile, enjoying a little bit of gossip about his dad.  
  
Stanford smiled and said, “Well, I think a large amount of it was because we were nothing but trouble. As siblings will, we just tortured each other.” Stanford chuckled to himself as he could remember hiding in Sherman’s closet with Stanley, waiting to scare him with a clown-mask and a goblin-mask.  
  
“How’d you do that?” Alex asked.  
  
Stanford turned to properly face his nephew and he gave it some thought. “Well, there was a month-long period where your uncle repeated everything your father said. We would also hide and scare each other randomly. Oh! Once I switched the sugar for salt so Shermie put salt on his cereal.”  
  
Alex giggled and said, “That’s funny.”  
  
Stanford, encouraged, grinned. “Really? Uh… oh! This is a good one!” He rummaged through his pants-pockets for a quarter and in between the couch-cushions for a pencil. “You… you take a quarter, and use a pencil to blacken the edge… like this… and then you say to someone, ‘I bet you can’t roll this quarter from your forehead to your chin without it leaving your face’ and then when they do it, they will have a black line running right down the center of their face!”  
  
Alex laughed and asked, “Can I do it to you?”  
  
Stanford laughed, fullheartedly laughed, and said, “No, sorry, you will have to try it on someone else.”  
  


* * *

  
By the time Ma came back and had to take Alex home, he was actually sad to say goodbye to Fun Uncle Stanford and gave him a tight hug. Stanford was glad no one was home to see him smile like an idiot for an hour straight.  
  
The next day Ma was on the phone with a client and Pa was downstairs in the shop, so Stanford was sitting in the living room alone, reading a book, when the back door opened and closed. Stanford craned his neck to see the hallway behind him and he saw Sherman come into view, stern-looking with a black line down the center of his face. Stanford bit his lip.  
  
“We need to talk.” Sherman growled, resembling their father for a moment despite looking more like Ma with his narrower face and “beanpole” structure.  
  
“Uh, sure.” Stanford closed his book and stood up as his brother entered the room.  
  
“So,” Sherman crossed his arms over his chest. Stanford noticed his left foot was tapping on the floor rhythmically. That was not a good sign. “Alex learned a little trick from you.”  
  
Stanford smiled and pocketed his polydactyl hands in the pocket of his pants. “Right, the old…”  
  
“That’s right, my son put saran wrap over the toilet seat so that the pee goes everywhere!” Sherman snapped.  
  
Stanford actually had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from snorting. He cleared his throat and croaked, “I’m really sorry about that.”  
  
“Really, Ford, I’d expect this kinda thing from Stan,” Sherman scolded and uncrossed his arms. “But you know how I feel about pranks! They’re stupid, they’re mean, and I don’t want my son doing that sort of thing!”  
  
“Oh, come now, Shermie,” Stanford eased, thinking his anger was a little too much for something so harmless. “Clear plastic wrap on the toilet, don’t you think that’s only a little bit funny?”  
  
“I was barefoot.”  
  
Stanford accidentally let a quick bark of a laugh escape his mouth before holding his breath.  
  
“Now, please Ford, tell me the toilet-prank was the only one you taught him, right?” Sherman asked.  
  
Stanford darted his eyes to the line on his brother’s face and debated on telling him, but it was just too easy to let it go. A nice little last-prank before going to Alex and talking to him about this. “Uh, y-yes. Absolutely.”  
  
Maybe it was because he was so used to all of the lying to come from Stanley, but Sherman actually believed Stanford and nodded and patted his shoulder. “Thanks. Sorry to leave in such a hurry, but I have a meeting I have to be in very soon.”  
  
Stanford suddenly regretted not telling Sherman about his black line and tried to stop him to tell him, but he was already gone and Stanford made no further attempt to tell him.  
  
He did, however, go to New York City to talk to his nephew. While he enjoyed being Fun Uncle Stanford, as Alex called him yesterday, he had sworn to himself when his nephew was born that he would be the responsible uncle (mostly since he knew he couldn’t count on his twin to be responsible for anyone or anything), and Stanford intended to keep that promise. So he took a subway to New York City and walked to the apartment building his older brother lived in, knowing that since Alex wasn’t with his grandparents he was at home with his mother. When Stanford knocked, Sherman’s wife, Daisy, opened the door and smiled.  
  
“Hi, Ford!” The dirty-blonde haired woman greeted and let the young man inside the very tidy apartment, a total opposite to the Pines’ flat above the pawn shop. “Shermie’s not here right now.”  
  
“Oh, I know, Daisy, I just… erm, thought I would pay a visit.”  
  
“Oh alright, would you like some coffee? I was about to make myself some.” Daisy offered as she walked into the kitchen, which was its own room unlike the Pines’ home that had one big room for a living room, kitchen, and dining room.  
  
“That would be great, thank you.” Stanford let her go and called as he sat in one of the matching armchairs in the living room. “So, where is Alex?” He jumped out of his chair when his nephew scared him from behind the chair and Stanford had to bite his lip to keep from yelling or swearing. He smiled and called back to Daisy, “Nevermind, I found him.”  
  
“Hi, Uncle Stanford!”  
  
“Alex, my boy,” Stanford greeted and sat the four-year-old on the armchair as he crouched to be eye-level. “While I’m very happy to see you, that little prank is exactly why I came to talk to you.”  
  
“Ford, do you want some sugar in your coffee?” Daisy called from the kitchen.  
  
Stanford opened his mouth to request a little bit of sugar, but then he remembered the whole sugar-and-salt prank he taught Alex and asked the boy, “Do I want sugar in my coffee?”  
  
Alex grinned and nodded, but Stanford could see the little lie in his eyes and decided to play it safe. “No, just come creamer would be great, thank you.” Stanford called to his sister-in-law and turned his attention back on his nephew. “Okay, now do you remember all those pranks I taught you yesterday?”  
  
“Y’remember all those pranks I taught you yesterday?” Alex repeated with a voice that mocked Stanford’s as he bounced in the armchair with glee.  
  
Stanford paused and then shook his head. “No, Alex, listen…”  
  
“No, Alex, listen.”  
  
“Don’t do that.”  
  
“Don’t do that.”  
  
“Alex, please, your father doesn’t like pranks.” Stanford tried to explain, but was interrupted.  
  
“Alex, please, your father doesn’t like pranks.” Alex copied.  
  
Stanford stood up, his knees aching, and muttered, “Damn it.”  
  
Unfortunately, the boy heard that. “Damn it!” He yelled.  
  
That made Stanford’s eyes widened with horror and he fell to his knees. “No, no, no! Don’t say that!” He hissed, worried Daisy might have heard her four-year-old son swear.  
  
“Damn it!”  
  
“No, g-g-go back to repeating!”  
  
“Damn it!”  
  
“Not that kind of repeating!”  
  
“Damn it!”  
  
Stanford groaned and stood up to try to think, groaning, “Oh, crap.”  
  
“Oh, crap!” Alex cheered, happy to learn so many new words in one minute, meanwhile his uncle was growing pale.  
  
Stanford ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy brown hair as he tried to think of what to do. Stanley might have been worse about swearing like a sailor, but he was much better about censoring himself around kids. One time, when Ma gave the twins the chore of taking the baby for a walk in the stroller, Stanley stumped his toe as they were coming home, and even though the baby was only two-months-old, he manage to yell something that wasn’t necessarily a swear. (Stanley’s eyes had landed on the waffle-sign next to their pawn shop and yelled, “Hot Belgian Waffles!”, a swear that would always remain Stanford’s favorite.)  
  
As much as it hurts, Stanford’s mind kept thinking of what his brother would have done. Stanley would have never been bored with Alex in the first place. They would have played football outside to get some fresh air, or he would have shoplifted two popsicles from the ice-cream truck, or he would have colored or played blocks with the four-year-old and claim his scribbles would give Van Gogh a run for his money. If thinking like Stanley would have saved him then, maybe it could save Stanford now. So he thought of what Stanley would have done in this situation. Then an idea came to him and his face lit up.  
  
Stanford pulled the coffee table closer to the armchair Alex sat on and had a long discussion with him. As he talked, he kept an ear out for Daisy and by the time he was finished it sounded (and smelled) like the coffee was nearly ready. “And so what have we agreed on?”  
  
“No more pranks.” Alex said.  
  
“Cross your heart?” Stanford asked and did it first, crossing his heart with his right hand and then holding it up.  
  
Alex nodded, crossed his heart, and then held up his hand. Stanford smiled and was about to thank his nephew for being cooperative, but then the boy got an idea and clapped his hand against his uncle’s. “High…” Alex then gasped, and got an even better idea. “High-six!” He cheered, missing the look on Stanford’s face.  
  
He was shaken to have someone give him a “high-six”. Alex was too little for Stanley to have taught him that (their nephew was only six-months-old that spring evening Stanley left home); that was something Alex came up on his own. He was a creative, sweet, go-with-the-flow child, one of the few people who never questioned or mocked Stanford for his extra fingers. To him, that’s just the way his Uncle Stanford was and he not only accepted it but loved it.  
  
Stanford was broken from his trance when his nephew held out his hand for something and even cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” Stanford reached into his pocket and pulled a five dollar bill out from his wallet and gave it to Alex, his fee for promising not to pull any more pranks.  
  
Alex grinned, took the money, and ran off with it. Stanford rolled his eyes and pocketed his wallet and stood up to join Daisy in the kitchen.  
  
Just then Sherman came home and was surprised to find his little brother in his living room. He still had the black line down his face. “Ford, what brings you here?”  
  
“I just came by to talk to Alex, that’s all.” Stanford said with a shrug and pocketed his hands in his pockets.  
  
Sherman gave him a deadly glare. “I swear, if you taught him any more…”  
  
“No, no, I actually had a talk with him and he promised not to pull pranks.” Stanford sighed and put a hand up to stop his brothers scolding.  
  
“Oh,” Sherman said and smiled. “Well, thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Stanford pocketed his exposed hand and added, “But just so you know, it was nice to be known as ‘Fun Uncle Stanford’ for a day.” He bit his tongue to keep from going on, but if Sherman didn’t know any better he would say Stanford was going to tell him how much he loved being known as fun to Alex.  
  
Sherman sighed, realizing that he may have taken this whole pranking-thing too seriously, and said slowly, “Look, Ford, I’m glad you two were bonding and having fun, I just…”  
  
“No, Shermie, it’s alright.” Stanford waved his brother’s explanation away. “He’s your son and you have more than a say in what he learns and doesn’t learn. All I’m going to remind you is that he is an only child. Somebody will have to teach him those kind of things so he doesn’t get creamed by the other kids. And, in retrospect, it’s not like I taught him anything an average four-year-old doesn’t either know or have thought of on his own.”  
  
“Damn it!”  
  
Stanford quickly looked at his watch and said as he left, “Oh, Moses, look at the time!”  
  
Sherman was rigid, it digesting that his brother quite possibly taught Alex a swear, and his temper snapped when Daisy walked in, saw her husband’s face, and asked, “Where did you get that big black line down the center of your face?”  
  
“STANFORD FILBRICK PINES!” Sherman yelled as he ran out the door to teach his little brother a lesson Pines-boxing-style.  
  


* * *

  
A few weeks later, only two weeks before Stanford was moving to Oregon for his new job, Sherman brought Alex into the pawn shop so Sherman could leave quicker through the front entrance, fully aware that Stanford was the only one home at the moment. “Again, I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, but there is an issue down at the bank I have to take care of, and a certain someone asked for his Fun Uncle Stanford.”  
  
Stanford grinned and looked down at the boy who was holding his six-fingered hand and bouncing on the spot. “Oh, well we have fun together, don’t we Alex?”  
  
Alex, grinning ear-to-ear, nodded wildly.  
  
“Okay, I’ll be back at six.” Sherman said, patted Stanford’s shoulder, and turned to leave, but the younger brother laughed and shook his head.  
  
“No, wait, I’m sorry, my boy, I can’t let him go.” Stanford said to Alex, who pouted a little, making his bottom lip stick out.  
  
“Wait, what?” Sherman stood still as Stanford removed a piece of paper that read “poop” that had been tapped to Sherman’s back. “That’s fantastic.” He said sarcastically and scowled at his son. “What did we just finished talking about, Alex?”  
  
“What did we just finished talking about, Alex?” The boy mocked.  
  
“Alex,” Stanford said warningly, but Sherman cut him off.  
  
“That is _it_.” He growled and darted for his son, who let go of Stanford’s hand and ran around the shop, free to do so without the scolding of his Grandpa to not break anything. “Alex! Come here, little mister! You are in BIG trouble!”  
  
“Oh, come on!” Stanford called as Sherman chased Alex up the stairwell leading to the flat above the shop. “Shermie! Wait a minute!”  
  
Sherman and Alex disappeared into the hallway of nothing but stairs, and the next thing Stanford knew he heard yells and saw a big body fall down into the shop. Stanford yelled and jumped, holding his hair and freaking out for his brother’s safety, only to find that it was a dummy and Sherman and Alex were laughing in the middle of the stairs. Stanford glared daggers at them, but he decided he could let the prank go when he saw the way Alex was laughing and smiling and how he high-fived his father.  
  


* * *

  
Alex read his newspaper while his children ate their cereal with smug looks on their faces. Their mother had just entered the kitchen and was pouring herself some coffee. She was too sleepy to notice how odd it was that talkative-Mabel was silent and that Dipper was watching her so intensively instead of reading his book.  
  
Kristen grabbed the nearly-full coffee pot and a mug, poured herself some hot caffeinated drink, added sugar and powdered creamer, and gingerly took a sip as she leaned against the counter. As soon as the drink landed on her tongue she hurried to the sink and spat it out. “Ack! What the… Al!”  
  
Alex laughed with his kids as he put his paper down. Mabel even pounded her little fist on the table as she laughed at her mother’s reaction. Kristen tried to scowl scaringly, but it was hard when her whole family was so happy.  
  
“Very clever.” She said and got down the bag of sugar to fix herself a new cup of coffee. “That’s a good one.”  
  
“Yeah, Daddy!” The five-year-old girl cheered before popping a spoonful of cereal with milk into her mouth. “Where’d y’learn that stuff?”  
  
“My Uncle Stanford taught me when I was about your age.” Alex answered. He ignored the fact that he hadn’t seen the man who taught him that in years but saw his twin at a funeral and when Dipper and Mabel were born.  
  
“We have an Uncle Stanford?!” Mabel gasped happily.  
  
“Well, he’s my uncle, so that would make him your great-uncle.” Alex chuckled.  
  
“That’s even better! A greater uncle!”  
  
“He sounds like a lot of fun.” Dipper said. “When are we gonna see him?”  
  
Alex shrugged. Traditionally, he took his little family to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving and Grandma Pines would fly down to California for Hanukkah, but she was getting older and it was harder for her to travel. Stanford would answer any call he got from his nephew cheerful enough, but he had made no effort to see any family except when Alex invited him to that hospital in California, knowing he needed to be there more than anybody. Alex was “insightful” as his mother called it, and so he knew a good amount of what was going on and also knew how to leave what wasn’t his business alone but also help his family member. “Maybe I should call him and we can go up and visit him for the holidays. He lives up north and if we’re lucky we might get some snow.”  
  
Mabel gasped even bigger and louder. “SNOW! I wanna go see Uncle Stanford! I wanna go see Uncle Stanford!”  
  
“Alright, alright, Maple Leaf.” Alex said and ruffled her hair. “We’ll see what happens.”


End file.
